The Kiss
by HedgieX
Summary: Short one-shot about Gill's reaction to the kiss Rachel gives her as she leaves the wedding party. Sorry, this is more a rambling description of Gill's feelings than it is a story; I've discovered it's difficult to write coherently when you're fangirling too much.


Gill hadn't slept, since the kiss.

She hadn't taken a single day off with illness since she'd become the leader of Syndicate Nine. She was very rarely ill, and when she was she got on with her life as normally as she could until she became well again. Gill despised people who skived off work for splutters and scrapes, and whatever she sometimes thought of her team she couldn't doubt their dedication.

Since the kiss, three days ago, she hadn't been in to work. She'd lounged around on the sofa watching the news (she'd made a promise to herself that she would never, under any circumstances, stoop as low as _Jeremy Kyle; _that man represented everything Gill thought was wrong with the world) with a mug of tomato soup. She hadn't dared to look in the mirror because she knew exactly how she looked, hair wild, greyish streaks under her puffy red eyes.

She'd rung Janet at the office the day after the wedding to say she couldn't come in, and Kevin and Rachel had been chattering in the background whilst Janet had sympathised with how dreadful she sounded. Kevin had called Rachel 'Mrs McCartney', and Gill had quickly excused herself and run to the bathroom to be throw up. She remembered when she'd been pregnant with Sammy, how Dave had held back her hair when she'd been plagued with morning sickness, and then he'd pulled her to him and it hadn't really mattered that she was suffering now, because she knew that she'd soon have a beautiful baby boy.

She thought that was what she missed most about marriage. There was nobody here for her any more, nobody to offer her their dressing gown when she was sick down her own. Sammy and Orla had come round yesterday with a shepherd's pie and a bunch of flowers, and Orla had offered to run her a bath; it had almost made her cry all over again to think that the only warmth extended to her nowadays was by her son's girlfriend.

_The kiss._ Exactly how naïve did that sound? It hadn't been a kiss at all, just a little squeeze, a little peck on the cheek by way of gratitude. Yet that kiss was the only thing that Gill had to cling on to, the only sign that Rachel had ever given to her that she cared, and Gill couldn't get it out of her mind, however hard she tried. She remembered Sammy telling her he'd never felt the way he did about Orla about anyone else in his life before, and Gill had smiled at the concept of her son falling in love, but that was the way she felt about Rachel.

It frightened her. The depth, the intensity, of her feelings frightened her. She had been petrified at Rachel's hearing in case the decision was made to sack her, and Gill had tried to pretend that she was scared of losing a brilliant officer, but it was more than that. She was scared of losing the woman who ate Aero yoghurts at ridiculous times in the morning when the thought of chocolate made Gill feel sick, the woman who was so fiercely passionate about her career that it got her into trouble. The woman whose smile was the most beautiful thing in the world.

And that kiss. She replayed it over and over in her mind like she did when she was trying to analyse a murder, and yet this wasn't something that could be analysed; from Rachel's point of view, it had meant absolutely nothing. She'd just married Sean with her family and friends around her, so of course she was going to be more emotional than normal, it wasn't a normal day. Gill thought about the things she knew of Rachel, and how pitifully small the sum total of the things she knew about her was. They were strangers to one another.

She wondered if she loved the person Rachel was, or the person she _thought_ she was, the person she wanted her to be. She wondered if it was possible to go insane thinking about someone incessantly for days on end.

There was some traditional principle inside of her, something her mother had drilled in, telling her that it was wrong; what she was feeling was wrong. She had no problem with homosexuality, and yet when it was her feeling that was there was a part of her, a disgusting part, that wondered why she had to feel like this. Why she couldn't be _normal_. When she tried to imagine what Sammy would say if she told him, she felt a burning shame in her gut. Everyone thought that DCI Gill Murray was so brave, and yet she was a coward. She couldn't even accept herself.

The phone rang, and she nearly spilt her mug of soup down her nightie. She muted the news – she'd watched the same reel for a couple of hours now, and yet she couldn't remember a single story that had been featured – and went to the phone, cradling it for a moment before she sat down on the window ledge and accepted the call.

"Hello."

"Boss, it's Janet. How you feeling?"

Gill didn't even have to pretend. Her throat was dry, her voice croaky as though she was recovering from something nasty. "Not too good."

"Aw Gill, you poor thing, you sound dreadful. I was just saying to Rach, I can't remember you ever being off work before. Do you remember that time we were in the middle of that massive court case, you'd been pushed down the stairs by that guy's brother and the FME thought you'd broken your ankle or something, but you still gave evidence?"

She'd rather not remember. Rachel had run down the stairs and crouched down beside her, her face etched with worry which had disappeared almost instantly once she'd realised that a) Gill was conscious, and b) she had to be strong. Gill and Rachel, they both worked by the same rule, really: _never show weakness._

"How's everyone?" _How's Rachel?_

"Alright. We've still not got any leads on that case, but Kev did a really good job of interviewing the witness, I told him you'd be impressed. He's gone out to buy doughnuts now. Actually, Rachel wanted to have a quick word with you, um– _Rach_."

Gill nearly threw the phone out of the window. She was surprised that the beating of her heart wasn't echoing down the line, it was so loud.

"Ma'am," Rachel said, having apparently taken the phone from Janet. She said it like 'mum', which made Gill feel as though someone was beating her with a tennis racquet, knocking her against the windows. _Jesus Christ, childbirth wasn't this painful._ "Ma'am, I just wanted to say thanks."

"You've said thanks, Rachel."

"I know, but– again."

"Well, you're welcome. I need you on my team."

"And for the wedding. It was nice of you to come, you know, it was– nice."

Gill tried to cover up her sniffs with a sudden coughing fit. She hadn't cried in years either, not properly, not since Dave. "I hope you and Sean will be happy."

"No, Ma'am, I–"

"What?"

Gill heard a door slam. From the silence, she realised that Rachel had gone out into the corridor. "I know this sounds really bad, but I just don't know– whether I've done the right thing, with Sean. Everything with my mum, and I just sort of wanted to– to fill the hole, you know? No, you don't know. Sorry. I shouldn't be going on about this, sorry."

What was 'everything' with her mum? Gill knew she had a bit of a tearaway brother, and of course the mother had caused no end of trouble with her antics with Pete in the car park (Gill had looked at her and wondered how Rachel could possibly be related to _that_) but that was the extent of her knowledge. _We're strangers to one another. _

"It's okay, Rach."

First time she'd ever called her 'Rach' aloud. She thought that Rachel had noticed too, for she was silent for a moment. Both of them crying down the phone to each other without the other knowing why, and no questions being asked. _One day we'll laugh about this._

"Ma'am. I know this is a bad time, and you're ill and all that, and just tell me to get stuffed, but– could I come round?"

"It's not a bad time," Gill said, leaning her head against the window pane and wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. The flowers beside her from Sammy and Orla smelt suddenly beautiful. "Of course you can. I'll put the kettle on."


End file.
